The Rising Storm

by Dennis Wheatley

  First, and most important, there were the arrangements for their meeting again. To his unbounded joy there was no impediment to his passing every night with Isabella until her husband returned with Their Majesties from Sicily. But that was not enough; they were greedy for every hour, for every moment, that they could spend in one another’s company, and Isabella had declared that the solution to their problem lay in Roger’s immediate introduction to Neapolitan society.

  Her grief at losing him had equalled his at losing her, but she had found some consolation in life at Naples. She had expected to find herself virtually a prisoner, hedged about with the same restraints and wearisome etiquette that made existence so dreary for ladies of high rank at the Court of Madrid; but that had not proved the case.

  Although King Ferdinand was a Spaniard, during his reign of thirty years various causes had gradually whittled away the Spanish influence in his Kingdom. His father, Don Carlos, while still once removed from the Spanish throne, had conquered Naples and made himself its King; but to win the goodwill of the Neapolitans he had given them a treaty guaranteeing that the crowns of Spain and Naples should never be merged upon one head. So, when his half-brother died in 1759, and he ascended the throne of Spain—his eldest son, Phillip, being an idiot—he had made his second son, Carlos, Prince of the Asturias and heir to the Spanish crown, and given his third son, Ferdinand, Naples as an independent Kingdom.

  Ferdinand, then only a boy of eight, had ruled by a Council of Regency, dominated by his tutor Tanucci; but a year after Ferdinand attained his majority he had married the Archduchess Maria Carolina of Austria. The marriage treaty had stipulated that she should have a say in all affairs of State; and, being a strong-willed young woman, she soon got him under her thumb. She had allied herself with the Neapolitan nobility, succeeded in getting Tanucci dismissed, and reversed his policy. Queen Caroline had not gone to the length of attempting to break the Bourbon Family Compact, so Naples was still allied to France and Spain; but in the twenty-one years that she had now been Ferdinand’s consort she had modelled his Court on that of Vienna, instead of Madrid, and done away with all the hidebound etiquette with which the Spaniards surrounded royalty.

  There were still several great Spanish families, such as the Novinos, Santa Marias and d’Avilas, living in Naples; but they had intermarried with the Sambucas, Monteliones, della Roccas, and other ancient Neapolitan houses; so now formed part of one aristocracy.

  Isabella said that after the glittering Court of Versailles she found these petty princes and their ladies very provincial, but far nicer than the French. As Sovereigns, King Ferdinand and Queen Caroline left much to be desired. Naples was one of the most backward States in Europe, and its peasantry still groaned under the burdens of a feudal tyranny while its rulers concerned themselves with little except their own pleasure. But they mingled freely with their nobility, often in an almost bohemian manner, and this gave an air of spontaneous gaiety to life in their capital.

  Everyone of importance in Naples owned one or more villas with lovely gardens, within an easy drive of the city, at Posilipo, Portici or Sorrento; and even in winter the mildness of the climate enabled them to enjoy these properties. Almost every day one or other of Isabella’s friends made up a little party of eight or ten people, to lunch informally and spend the afternoon at a villa along the coast; so while she could not invite Roger openly to her own house, she could get her friends to include him in these parties, and thus spend most of each day with him.

  In the Princess Francavilla she had found such a sweet and sympathetic friend that she had confided to her the story of her love affair with Roger; so it would be easy to send the Princess a note that morning and have him invited for the afternoon. After that the Princess would take charge of matters and, without Isabella being compromised, arrange for him to be asked by mutual friends to every party where she herself would be.

  When he had enquired after Quetzal Isabella told him that her Indian was well, as devoted to her as ever, and showed great intelligence over his lessons, which now occupied most of his time; but, unfortunately, had taken an intense dislike to her husband. Feeling that he must find out where he stood, in case Don Diego returned from Sicily earlier than was expected, Roger had then asked, as casually as he could, if she found her husband tolerable to live with, and she had replied:

  “I have no reason to complain of him. We were married almost immediately after my arrival here, and I had no option but to submit to his will. As my heart was, and is, yours, ’tis hardly to be wondered at if he found me cold. After the first few weeks he ceased to exercise his rights and openly returned to his mistress. In Naples it is the fashion for every man of quality to keep a mistress, whether he has a use for her or not. He had retained a pretty young thing of seventeen, whom he had been keeping before my arrival; so my failure to provide a counter-attraction caused him no inconvenience.

  “For a man of only thirty he is very old-fashioned, and if he could, he would, I am sure, make me live the type of life to which women are condemned in Spain; but fortunately he dare not, for any husband who attempted to put his wife behind bars here would be the laughing-stock of Naples. He treats me with grave courtesy and is at most times of a pleasant temper; but now and then he is subject to very black moods. I soon learned their cause. It is not the custom here for men to remain faithful to their mistresses any more than to their wives, and these moods arise each time he has set his mind on some new charmer. They last as long as she rejects him; but as chastity is the exception rather than the rule among the fair of Naples his black fits are rarely of lengthy duration.”

  When Roger asked if Don Diego knew of their own affair, Isabella had shaken her head. “Had he heard anything of it, I feel sure he would have questioned me; but he has never done so. Fortunately there is little communication between this Court and that of Tuscany, and my cousin, who escorted me hither, naturally kept a still tongue for the family’s sake. My aunt, of course, wrote to my mother of it, and it was from fear that someone who knew about my clandestine stay in Florence should arrive here that she hurried my marriage forward; but the fact that I had retained my virginity saved me from all but mild reproaches at having been most foolishly indiscreet. She and my father have since returned to Spain; so I do not think anyone here, except my friend Dorina Francavilla, will realise that we have even met before.”

  “There could be no harm in letting it be known that we met at Fontainebleau,” Roger hazarded.

  To that she had agreed, and added: “I think it might be well to do so. If we are to meet frequently in company a common interest in the Court of France will provide good grounds for our having a lot to say to one another.”

  During his walk down the hill Roger turned these matters over in his mind, and found them all extremely satisfactory. On arriving at Crocielles he ordered cans of water to be brought up to his room so that he could have a bath, and while he was having it contemplated his next move.

  On his voyage from Marseilles he had decided to make capital out of what he felt to be Mr. Pitt’s unmerited rebuke regarding his earlier mission. The Prime Minister had tentatively suggested that he might have sent Madame Marie Antoinette’s letter by way of the British Embassy bag, and Roger still felt that to have done so would seriously have jeopardised the credit he was then hoping to gain with her. But he saw now that where he had been at fault was in not making use of British diplomatic facilities when he had arrived in Florence. He could easily have gone to the Ambassador, Lord Hervey, told him the facts, and got him to arrange a private audience with the Grand Duke.

  At the time the idea had never occurred to him, but had it done so he could have saved himself a vast amount of trouble, considerable danger, and probably the loss of Isabella. Now, profiting by his previous shortsightedness, he had made up his mind to wait upon Sir William Hamilton, the British Envoy in Naples, as the best and simplest means of securing an audience with Queen Caroline.

  When he had told Isabel
la his intention during the past night, she agreed to its wisdom, and pointed out that as they planned for him to enter Neapolitan society at once, the sooner he waited upon Sir William the better; for if he delayed it might later be thought strange that he had failed to present himself on his arrival. Then she asked him if he knew anything about the diplomat.

  When Roger replied that he knew him only by name, she said:

  “He is a cousin of the Duke of Hamilton, and must now be a man of about sixty. ’Tis said that when he first entered your diplomatic service he had ambitions, but he has been en post here for over a quarter of a century, and the laissez-faire atmosphere of the city of the bay has now, no doubt, reconciled him to remaining in this backwater until his career is terminated. He has the bearing of a true aristocrat and is intelligent beyond most. Moreover, he is a man of great taste. His collection of Roman antiques can scarcely be rivalled, and his mistress, although a flamboyant creature, is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met.”

  “You know her, then?” Roger exclaimed in some surprise.

  “Everybody does,” had come the quick reply. “She lives with him at the Palazzo Sessa, but the affaire is conducted very discreetly. His wife, who brought him his fine fortune, died in ’82; and evidently after a few years of widowhood he found casual amours unsatisfactory to a man of his age and quiet tastes. Three seasons ago he brought out two ladies from England to winter with him in Naples. The elder, a Mrs. Cadogan, he installed as his housekeeper, and it was said that the younger, a Miss Amy Hart, had come here to study art and music. They repeated the visit last year, and are here again now. But there are so many English visitors to Naples that the truth of the matter soon leaked out. Miss Hart, or “Emma”, as he calls her, is Mrs. Cadogan’s daughter, and was an artist’s model. She sat, I am told, for several paintings by your great artist Romney. Meanwhile she was kept and educated by Sir William’s nephew, Charles Hamilton; but he became heavily in debt, so his uncle struck a bargain with him. He paid off his debts in exchange for his beautiful mistress.”

  “Since all this is known, I find it more surprising than ever that she should be received into society.”

  “You would not think so if you knew Naples better. The people here count sweetness of disposition as of greater worth than virtue. She is well behaved and does the honours of the Palazzo Sessa charmingly. ’Tis believed by many that they are secretly married and that in reality she is Lady Hamilton. In any case Queen Caroline, whose own morals are not beyond reproach, has made a friend of her, although, of course, she is not officially received at Court.”

  A few hours later Roger was still pondering the information Isabella had given him about this interesting ménage, when he drove up to the Palazzo Sessa. Sir William was at home, and, after only a short wait, received him.

  The elderly diplomat’s aquiline features were bronzed by the sun of many Neapolitan summers, but its enervating climate did not seem to have undermined his quick perception, and Roger took an immediate liking to him. As soon as he had disclosed his business, and produced the miniature of the Dauphin, Sir William said:

  “Although you tell me that you are acting privately on behalf of Madame Marie Antoinette, and Whitehall has no cognisance of your mission, I see great possibilities in turning it to the advantage of Britain, so will willingly do all I can to assist you.”

  As Roger thanked him, he went on: “You will no doubt be aware that Naples is still tied to France by the Bourbon Family Compact. For many years it has been my principal task to loosen that tie, and my efforts have not been altogether unsuccessful. In that, of course, I have been much assisted by the attitude of Queen Caroline, and the friendship of General Acton.”

  Roger knew that Sir William referred to the Neapolitan Prime Minister, but knowing nothing of the General’s history, he committed the faux pas of remarking: “It must certainly have been a great asset to you, sir, that King Ferdinand should have chosen an Englishman for his principal councillor.”

  Sir William raised a humorous grey eyebrow. “ ’Tis stretching something of a long bow to term him that; for he is half French, was born in France, educated there, and has spent the whole of his adult life in Italy.”

  “I pray you forgive me, sir,” Roger said, with a slight flush. “But this is my first visit to Naples and I am abysmally ignorant of Neapolitan affairs.”

  “Then I had best tell you something of them,” smiled Sir William; “at least to the extent of a few brief details about the people you will have to meet, and on whom the success or failure of your mission hinges. John Acton has carved out a fine career for himself, as his father was no more than a physician. He was travelling in France with the father of Mr. Edward Gibbon and on their coming to Besançon he decided that it would be a good place in which to settle and establish a practice. He married a French lady, and John was born a year or so afterwards. John’s uncle had some influence at the Court of Florence, and at his suggestion the boy entered the Tuscan navy. His big chance did not come until he was nearly forty. It was in ’75. Spain and Tuscany sent a joint expedition against the pirates of Algiers and the affair proved a serious disaster; but John who had command of a frigate, performed prodigies of valour in the retreat and from that point received rapid promotion.”

  Sir William paused a moment, before going on: “You should also know that Queen Caroline has a very strong personality. She is extremely ambitious and by no means uninclined to gallantry. At that time her favourite was Prince Caramanico, and knowing her desire to make Naples a stronger power the Prince suggested to her that she should get John Acton to reorganise the Neapolitan navy. The Queen induced her brother, the Grand Duke, to part with his most promising sailor, and Acton was made King Ferdinand’s Minister of Marine. He achieved such rapid progress in his task that he was asked to also undertake the reorganisation of the army, and given a second portfolio as Minister of War.

  “He has, of course, performed miracles. When he came here ten years ago the Neapolitan navy was practically non-existent and the army numbered less than fifteen thousand men; whereas now Naples can send a fleet of one hundred and twenty sail to sea and put sixty thousand men in the field. But such feats cost money and quite early in the game John’s demands practically emptied the Neapolitan treasury. To that only one answer could be found; they gave him a third portfolio and made him Minister of Finance.”

  Roger began to laugh, and Sir William smiled back at him. “By that time Prince Caramanico was in something of the position of a bird that has inadvertently imported a cuckoo’s egg into its own nest. But the little monster had hatched out, so it was too late to do anything about it. However, Acton pushed him out of the nest quite gently. He got him sent as Ambassador to London. Then he had himself appointed Commander-in-Chief of the Neapolitan Forces by Land and Sea, and Prime Minister.”

  “All that, I take it, sir, was by favour of the Queen?” Roger enquired.

  “By that and his own great abilities. It has always been her ambition to have a voice in the councils of Europe; but a voice unbacked by force is as one crying in the wilderness. Naples is by nature a small and poor State. When she came here it was accounted insignificant. But in General Acton she found a man who could make Naples, if not feared, at least well worth courting. So they have good reason to be pleased with one another.”

  “Am I right in supposing, sir, that His Majesty concerns himself only with his own pleasures?”

  Sir William nodded. “His tutor, Bernardo Tanucci, sought to gain a permanent hold over him by initiating him into vice when he was still a boy; and even took him to such low haunts as the public stews. Queen Caroline soon got rid of Tanucci, but the King has never lost his taste for low company. Although he is now thirty-eight his mentality is still that of a bay of fourteen. He likes to think of himself as an Haroun al Raschid, and often goes about the city with a few of his cronies in disguise; but disguised so thinly as to ensure recognition, so that he may enjoy his favourite sport of playing
the King among the beggars.”

  Roger recalled that Isabella had said something about Ferdinand having been nicknamed El Rey de Lazzarone. He had not understood the inference at the time, but Sir William was continuing:

  “As you must have seen, there are thousands of idle vagabonds about the city. They are known as the Lazzarone, and live almost entirely by petty crime; but they enjoy extraordinary licence, and no official dare bring them to book, as the King himself is the chief of their Guild, and they enjoy his special protection. When he is not clowning with them, he is either making childish attempts to deceive the Queen while pursuing some woman, or engaged in ‘Nimrodical expeditions’, as he terms the big shooting parties that are another passion of his, from his country palace at Caserta.”

  “It seems then, from what you tell me, sir, unlikely that His Majesty will have much say in the deciding of my business.”

  “If the Queen and General Acton are favourably inclined you may count it as good as done. But the King will have to be consulted; as, in the last event, should they receive the Dauphin here, and later refuse a peremptory demand for his return by the new National Government of France, that might involve Naples in war.”

  “Think you the French would really go to such lengths, sir?”

  “They might; although the greater probability is that it would beget no more than ill-feeling between the two States. But ’tis that which interests me so greatly in your project. General Acton quite rightly places the interests of Naples before all else, although his English blood naturally inclines him favourably towards us. The Queen, as a daughter of Maria Theresa, has a natural bias towards Austria. So the present alliance of Naples with France and Spain is in opposition to the sentiments of both. Moreover, I am in the happy position of enjoying a far greater degree of their confidence than are the Ambassadors of France and Spain, so able to take the best advantage of any new turn in the diplomatic situation which may offer. If your mission is successful it may well create one, and give me just the chance I need. On grounds of sentiment alone, it should not be difficult to persuade Queen Caroline to give asylum to her nephew, and if she once does so she is far too proud and stubborn a woman ever to give him up. Should serious friction with France result on that account I feel confident that I could detach Naples from her old alliance and bring about a new one between her, Austria and Britain.”